Day 8
Ted's Living Room, 2030
"So, what happened next, Dad? Did Marshall finally get out of bed?" asked Ted's daughter, interested.
"No, kids. Not yet. You see, when someone goes through a wound like that... well. It's as if the world stops in that moment, but the rest of the people keep moving forward very quickly."
The summer in New York had settled with a heaviness that seeped through the apartment windows. Alyx combated it with almost military rigor. By 7:30 in the morning, she had already scrubbed the kitchen floor with diluted bleach, reorganized the spice cabinets alphabetically (Ted's chronological disorder exasperated her), and cleaned the window frames with a cotton swab. The mechanical movement of her hands while cleaning was a silent mantra to manage her emotional disaster.
Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Marshall was a motionless statue under the sheet. Alyx had left a plate with two pieces of toast and a glass of fresh orange juice by the bed. The tray from the previous day with the barely tasted oatmeal was now a gleaming plate in the dishwasher.
Ted and Robin entered the apartment too cheerfully in their love bubble. They laughed, playfully pushed each other, and the sound to Alyx seemed strident, almost obscene, as if her cathedral of pain was being attacked by an insane joy.
"Alyx! Is the lazy bear in?" Ted asked, throwing his keys into the bowl Alyx had left near the door for that purpose.
"In his cave," she replied without looking up as she polished the sink. "I left him food. He barely touched it."
Robin approached, with that mix of discomfort and curiosity with which one approaches a house in mourning.
"And you? Have you been out?" Her voice was as soft as she could make it, aware of the delicate territory she was trying to explore.
"Of course. I went shopping," said Alyx, drying her hands on an immaculate cloth. "We needed milk and bread."
Ted put an arm around Robin's shoulders.
"Come on, I promised you the best burger in Manhattan and a cocktail that will make you forget the news exists. Are you coming, Alyx?" Ted finished with a well-intentioned offer that, to Alyx, sounded like a betrayal of her sadness, of Marshall, of everything—going out, laughing, eating a burger while Marshall was consumed within the four walls of his room.
Alyx shook her head, a tense smile on her lips, and commented, "Someone has to be here in case he wakes up."
Alyx saw the knowing look Ted and Robin exchanged, which reminded her of the same looks she used to share with Lily, or that she saw Lily and Marshall share. It was a reminder of how alone she now was, of the disparity and distance she now had with her friends, the elusive communication with Marshall, the responsibility she had taken on to be his caregiver—which she knew was not only out of love but also out of guilt for not stopping or preventing what she knew would happen, for having been too confident in the solidity of their relationship without noticing the existential crisis her Lily was going through. Emerging from her whirlwind of memories and self-reproach, she noticed how Ted and Robin left the apartment with Ted's arm wrapped around Robin's waist in a side hug. This simply intensified the feeling of emptiness in Alyx's stomach, which clearly wasn't from lack of food.
At MacLaren's, the reality of this new relationship was brighter for Barney, who, upon encountering the two in their love bubble—what was once his table of camaraderie, jokes, and inappropriate comments—now turned into a sickeningly sweet site for a hardened bachelor to get fed up with all the honey oozing from every act of the couple.
"Well, well, the lovebirds finally dare to come with their incredibly well-dressed friend and drinking companion," Barney commented as Robin and Ted joined him at the table.
"Shut up, Barney," laughed Ted, guiding Robin to the shared leather booth.
Barney watched them with critical attention, ready to make more suggestive comments due to his insatiable sex life. But seeing Ted's actions of "casually" (note the sarcasm) putting his arm around Robin and how she happily settled into that embrace, they moved to murmurs, secret chats of nonsense, clearly.
The way Ted spoke into her ear, how after the appetizers arrived, Robin stole one from Ted's hand, and he playfully held her wrist to stop her and softly reproach her—and in less than ten minutes, they were tickling each other and giggling left and right. Plus, the strange golden-light halo that seemed to filter over their silhouettes resembled a low-budget romantic movie that Barney thought he was hallucinating due to how absurd it was. This was too much for Barney.
Witnessing a whole annoying teenage movie, Barney maintained a look of dazed annoyance, moving to complete boredom. With deliberate slowness, he raised his right hand from his beer glass, formed the classic toy gun with his index finger and thumb, opened his mouth, placed his index and middle fingers as if pointing at himself, then dramatically "shot" the gun into his mouth. And with a realism worthy of a theater play, he let his body fall like dead weight against the back of his seat.
Back at the apartment with Alyx
Alyx found herself cleaning the apartment again after Robin and Ted left. Determined, she even moved the sofas to vacuum underneath them. There, breathing heavily from the effort, ready to run the vacuum, she saw something gleaming on the floor with a bit of dust. She bent down, picked it up between her fingers, and clearly identified it as an earring. Although simple, she knew that silver hoop belonged to Lily.
Upon determining its origin, her grip became more delicate. She held it as if it were fine, easily breakable porcelain, or even more, like a found relic—and it was, at least for her. Lily liked to wear them regularly and didn't let them get lost; they were always well placed or stored in a drawer with other small jewels that Lily had clearly taken to San Francisco. But this one had probably fallen off either during the argument or while she was carrying her luggage that day.
Feeling a wave of emotions—from irrational anger at finding her earring, wondering *how could Lily lose it if she takes such care of it? How could she leave a breadcrumb of memories in a place where she left two people starving for her affection?*—she had the strong temptation to open the window and throw it far away, or toss it in the trash and quickly take it out of the apartment. But she didn't. The anger dissipated and was replaced by a sadness she hadn't allowed herself to feel, mixed with a feeling of being unloved and invalidated in her relationship—emotions she had masked with her obsession with cleaning the apartment and taking care of Marshall, plus the guilt and self-reproach for ignoring the clear signs she should have seen, and moreover, for knowing the events that would unfold.
In the end, with a soft sigh, she went to her desk, which was located opposite Ted's work table against the windows. She searched among her drawers and gently deposited the small earring in a small space in her top drawer, alongside some books, as a reminder of their shared relationship and especially of Lily—of how she couldn't simply erase everything about her because it wasn't possible to eliminate the feelings she provoked.
Day 12
This new day brought new changes, new addictions, and progress. Marshall, dressed in old, dirty pajamas, emerged from the bedroom, dragging his feet softly as he walked, and timidly headed to the bathroom with his towel. Alyx, who had been at her desk since the early hours with her fourth cup of coffee of the day beside her—a constant now in her sleepless nights and silence—noticed Marshall's new action. It wasn't like previous days, locked in the room under the blankets with moments of soft, muffled crying or murmurs between reproaches and pleas. Today was different; he was awake before noon and was going to take a shower without her or Ted having to force him.
"Marshall," she said softly upon seeing him at the bedroom door, still and staring fixedly at a wall.
He blinked as if coming out of a daydream.
"I... There's hot water," she said, mid-sentence changing her words because she didn't know how to rejoice at the step Marshall had taken.
Marshall looked at her as he hadn't in days, softly, with brief recognition, and then with an effort that seemed like a life-or-death decision. He nodded and headed to the shower.
Alyx made no further comment, repeating the same nod to Marshall. She stood up and went to the bedroom, took out a large, old university shirt and sweatpants from the closet, and placed them on the dresser. Then, she changed the sheets and bedding in general, making the bed with clean ones she had.
Upon leaving the room with the dirty bedding in her arms to wash, she heard the clear sound of the water stream from the bathroom. But less than two minutes after hearing the water, this sound mixed with a low, deep moan—a heart-wrenching cry carrying the pain of an unexpected breakup. This paralyzed Alyx, who unconsciously began to clutch the bedding in her hands and, as if seeking support for once in the whole situation, leaned against the hallway wall. Feeling the cold on her back, the slight trembling of her hands, and her increasing breath, she thought she was losing control of herself. She didn't realize how much time passed like this because several minutes later, she heard the bathroom door opening. She quickly recomposed herself from her strange moment, saw Marshall emerge covered by the towel, they looked at each other fixedly, and in his gaze, the message was clear—*he did it*—and Alyx, with a slight nod, affirmed—*I know*.
That was the first victory in discovering, in Lily's words, who they were outside of their relationship.
And also, without the group yet knowing, the first moment Alyx had her moment of introspection and couldn't control feeling her true emotions about the situation.
Day 16
Ted's Living Room, 2030
"And Barney? What was Barney doing in all this, Dad?" asked Ted's younger son.
"Well, Barney, my son, was the extreme force, the one who constantly and inappropriately pulled you out of your comfort zone, and who in himself was a force that could turn against itself if not stopped in time."
Barney, now obsessed with his new plans to be Marshall's wingman for getting dates, with plans involving alcohol, women, liquor, and ridiculously expensive suits, was ready to take him to the next level. With constant incursions into the war zone—"Marshall's room"—where he debated unilaterally with a silent Marshall, and having to pass stealthily and with diplomatic words through the control base—"the living room with Alyx as guardian"—he finally succeeded in getting Marshall to give in to Barney. Although his plan was a strip club, he at least got him to go to the bar for a beer. What he didn't expect was that the combination of Marshall's depression and alcohol would make him loosen his tongue, and the only thing he would talk about were memories with Lily, some combined with the evolution of their relationship when Alyx arrived, all mixed with some tears depending on the story.
Barney, seeing how his night was a train heading for a head-on collision in slow motion, raised his right hand from his beer glass, formed the classic toy gun with his index finger and thumb (which he had already used one bullet on the previous week), opened his mouth, placed his index and middle fingers as if pointing at himself, then dramatically "shot" his gun into his mouth. And with an identical realism to the week before, he threw his body and head back against the backrest of his chair.